Iris
by JellyLove01
Summary: "Don't talk." He almost didn't sound human, but the warm hand rubbing my back was too kind for a monster. "Just… shut up for a minute." Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Iris**

 **Chapter One**

* * *

 _This story contains some abuse and may be distressing for some._

* * *

When I returned home to find a 6'7" male standing on my front porch, I wasn't quite sure what to do. His back was to me, but I had a fairly good idea who it was from his appearance, if not from the instinctual bubble of fear rising in my throat that was inspired solely by his presence. The russet-skinned giant turned to face me, dark eyes menacing, swirling with hatred.

"Where's Sam?" he called out across the lawn. His voice, usually warm and cheerful, sounded strained whenever he spoke to me.

Despite the hot flash that passed through my veins and settled in my curled fists, I took a deep breath and approached the porch. "He's out," I said simply, stomping up the front steps and towards the door.

"Where?"

"Dunno." I shrugged, fished my house keys from the pocket of my jacket and shoved them into the lock.

I could sense the dark mood swirling around the taller boy, almost as if he had conjured up his own storm. My answers weren't satisfying and I knew it, but what else could I say but the truth? My cousin was out. I didn't know where. That was all there was to say, because that was all there was to it.

"Was there anything else you wanted?" My voice was sweet. I'd intended for my words to bother him, not in a massive way, but so that they haunted him on some sleepless summer night and left him angered that I had control over a tiny portion of his mind. So I was sure to include a tiny drop of venom in my tone to get under his skin they way I knew it would. "'Cause if not, I'm going." Twisting the doorknob, I creaked the front door open.

"For fuck's sake, Iris," he growled lowly. His fist slammed the door shut before I had opened it more than a couple inches with a loud bang. I jumped, spinning around quickly, only to find that he had caged me in - trapped me between his surely steroid-abused arm and his broad chest. "You know where he is, so why won't you just tell me?"

I swallowed thickly, glancing at his arm. There was no way out. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Can't you see that you're in the way here?" His eyes darkened, and his hands were shaking. "Ever since you came here, you've done nothing but cause problems!"

It was nothing I didn't already know, but I still felt tears stinging my eyes. Hearing it said by someone was different than thinking it myself.

"Please don't." My voice was quiet, a whisper.

"Don't what? Don't what, Iris?" The evenness of his tone was unnerving, and it bothered me more than his deep booming yell ever could.

I desperately avoided his eyes, tilting my head to hide the tears trailing down my flushed cheeks. I didn't want to be there, didn't want to be anywhere where there were people. I wanted to run inside, to run away, to just run. My hands were tingling. I couldn't feel my fingers anymore.

"Don't tell you the truth?" he asked.

"I don't-"

"Don't tell you I hate you?" he yelled.

I hated when he yelled, hated when anyone yelled. It scared me, as much as that made me sound like a kid. I hated it more than I hated him. Maybe because I associated it with physical violence, and him with mental torment. He was the lesser of two evils. Or at least, he hurt less.

"Don't tell you I despise you?!"

I could hear an awful heaving sound, a wheezing, a gasping. It took me a moment to realise it was coming from me, that it was the sound of my panicked body trying to draw breath. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. How was I- What was I-

"Is that what you want," he whispered by my ear, " _sweetheart_?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried my best to take some deep breaths. I knew that I had to, that it would help, but I could still sense the sparks of electricity flying off of the man in front of me, even if I couldn't see him anymore.

 _Breathe, Iris._

I couldn't. I couldn't I couldn't I couldn't. My hands were shaking, tiny tremors rolling down my arm and into my fingertips. I could feel the thrum of my heart against my ribcage, hear the blood pulsing through my veins. My chest felt tight, my throat constricted. I couldn't breathe, couldn't get just one damn-

"Oh, for the love of-"

Burning fingers curled around my wrist, and I sprung my eyes open. His large hand wrapped around my wrist, and I knew that there was no hope in flinging off his grip, even in a calmer state. Instead, I looked up at him with panicked eyes, not being able to manage a glare through my hyperventilating, and resorted to calling him an ass through shuddering breaths. I didn't want him touching me. I didn't want anyone touching me.

The taller boy looked at me with pity, and I despised him for it.

And then I was being dragged inside by the wrist, pulled through the front door and into the kitchen, pushed towards a breakfast stool as the giant continued into the house. I clumsily sat, and held my head in my hands as I stared at the grain in the wooden counter. I was dimly aware of my black-haired enemy slamming cupboard doors closed before he reappeared next to me, a glass of water being placed in front of me, and his familiar hot grip on my arm again. I gasped for breath.

"Iris," he called, and then when I didn't respond, "Iris!"

I turned my head to him, looking at his chest through strands of brown. He sighed, tearing my arms away from my face and pushing the hair back from my splotchy face. Still, I kept my gaze level at his chest as I sobbed, my chest heaving erratically. I couldn't breathe.

"Iris, look at me."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't-

"Look at me," he said more sternly.

More so out of fear and the desire to keep the beast from attacking, I lifted my gaze hesitantly to meet his eyes. I watched the cold brown melt to chocolate as his gaze softened. I rarely got to see his eyes like this; warm and inviting, the way he looked at his friends. To me, they were usually cold and predatory.

"Good girl," he whispered, "Now breathe."

* * *

I knew I should have been working on my history essay, but the memory was still fresh in my mind and torturous. I didn't know how long it would take for it to fade away into the back of my mind for me to remember some night when I couldn't sleep, inspiring self-hatred and regret and embarrassment. A day, a week, a month… I couldn't tell, but I knew one thing for sure: I hated him. God, how I hated him. _Despised_ him. I couldn't understand why Sam chose to keep such horrible company. Then again, I couldn't understand why I felt indebted to the jerk.

Never in my life had I thought I would ever thank Jacob Black.

But what I hated more than him was that he had done something nice for me and now it was hard to be convinced that I hated him for a good reason. I hated the man who yelled at me, but couldn't bring myself to hate the man who calmed me. I hated the man who was gruff, but couldn't find it in myself to hate the man who was kind. I hated the man who made me feel trapped, but the man who made me feel safe was the same person.

I sighed, leaning back in my desk chair and staring at the ceiling as I spun. Things hadn't been in black and white in a long time, I realised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Iris**

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

I hated eating breakfast here. I had ever since I moved in with Sam a year ago. In fact, I hated eating any meal, since the likelihood of seeing Jacob Black increased during such times. I avoided it now - told Emily I wasn't feeling so well and took a nap, sneaked off to some friend's house, headed over to Forks for some ill-planned shopping trip. Lying itself wasn't difficult, but it took its toll on my conscience. I felt bad for deceiving the people who had opened their home up to me, but not as bad as being in Black's presence made me feel.

"Iris, are you coming down for lunch?" Emily stood at my bedroom door, looking as lovely as ever.

"Maybe later," I smiled, gesturing to the movie playing on the tv, "I'm up to the good bit."

She gave me a look that I was sure I had seen on my mother's face more than once, but nodded regardless before pulling the door shut and leaving me alone. I sat happily, surrounded with pillows and blankets as I resumed the film. I'd lied, of course. I wasn't up to the good bit. The movie was boring me to death, but it was better than running into Black downstairs, or Emily trying to overfeed me.

An hour later, I decided it was time to come downstairs - I could no longer avoid it without seeming rude. Emily would suspect that the movie had finished, and Sam would realise that I was just trying to avoid the whole thing which, of course, would only prompt him to force me to come downstairs and socialise.

I slipped from my room soundlessly and quietly made my way down the stairs, hoping to say hi to the group, steal a muffin, and sneak back upstairs before anyone had time to rope me into a conversation. I was about to pass by the living room when I heard a hushed conversation taking place. Instinctively, I stopped before the arched doorway, hiding behind the wall as I listened.

"When?"

It was Sam, I realised. At first, I'd thought he was on the phone until I heard a second voice.

"Yesterday. In the afternoon."

Jacob Black.

I heard Sam mutter something something under his breath. I assumed it was a swear. "I was out with Emily."

I was about to pass by when I heard my name whispered.

"Iris… she freaked."

"What do you mean?" Sam sounded tense.

"I mean, she had a damn panic attack, Uley." The frustrated anger in Jacob's voice was poorly masked. I narrowed my eyes. If helping me had bothered him that much, then he should have just left me to deal with it myself.

"You-"

"Yes."

I appeared casually in the doorway, and watched as Sam's eyes widened upon seeing me. Jacob turned quickly to face me, but his face wasn't troubled. I realised he didn't feel any guilt in what he had done, didn't feel guilty about gossiping about me. That was the difference between him and Sam.

"If you're going to talk about me, can you do it somewhere I won't hear?"

"Iris-"

"You know, so I don't freak," I said dryly, spinning on my heel.

"Iris, wait!"

I didn't come back at Sam's call, and instead briskly walked down the hallway and into the dining room where I was greeted by Sam's friends with a chorus of hello's, all of which received no response as I stormed out the front door.

I needed some air.

I wasn't angered by what had happened as much as I was embarrassed, and hurt that I was a topic of conversation. This always happened, every time I had an attack. Sam would call his friends over and explain what had happened, ask the younger ones to keep an eye on me in school and the older ones to watch over me. I didn't know why he always involved them. Maybe I was just something he couldn't deal with by himself, which I didn't hold against him. He was still young, and I wasn't exactly an easy person to live with sometimes. He needed support too - I just didn't like the way he so openly told everyone about everything.

Soon, it would spread, I was sure of it. And then school would be even worse, and I would be even worse.

I shook the thought from my head, letting out a heavy sigh. I was standing in the front yard, but I felt restless and I desperately wanted to be somewhere else. Maybe what had bothered me the most in all of this was Jacob's lack of expression. He didn't care, I knew. He didn't care what happened, what I heard, what he said. I was a thorn in his side, a constant source of bother. His cold eyes were empty as he watched me leave. I would have called him a traitor, but I couldn't - he would have had to have been loyal to me in the first place for the title to be fitting.

I heard the front door close gently, and sensed Sam's presence.

"Iris," he said, but I wasn't fooled into turning to look at him. If I looked at him, I would break again. I was weak. The fact that he knew what had happened was already bad enough, but I couldn't let it happen again in front of him, in a span of less than 24 hours. He waited a moment, shuffling up to me slowly. He made sure I could hear the grass beneath his feet, waited a moment before he laid his hand gently on my shoulder. He was trying to keep me calm, trying to keep me from scaring off. I gritted my teeth. "Iris, let's go inside."

I shook my head. I didn't want to. There were people there - lots of people, and they were probably all watching from the slits in the blinds. I was glad I couldn't see them, glad my back was to the house. "No."

Sam hesitated, unsure what to do. I guess he didn't understand, but then I couldn't expect him to. "Do you want to talk about yesterday?"

"I want to forget it ever happened."

Sam paused again, the tiny sigh passing through his lips told me he was upset. I was too, but I guess he didn't know that.

"Maybe you should start seeing someone again," he suggested.

I shook my head again, eyes staring straight ahead at the expanse of green in front of me. "No, Sam," I whispered, "I'm not like I was before."

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't happen anymore. I don't have attacks anymore," I laughed breathlessly, "I'm cured."

"Iris…"

"So I don't know why it happened yesterday," I said. "I don't know."

Sam was worried. I could feel the worry radiating off of him, hitting my back in waves. He also had absolutely no idea what to do, and his desperate cluelessness weighed down on me. "Let's just go inside for now, and we can talk about this another time."

I could feel the familiar feeling climbing up my throat, and forced it back down with deep breaths. I just shook my head and turned slowly to look him in the eyes. I was right, at least: his brown eyes were clouded with worry, his brow furrowed. I realised the look had become too familiar on him, that since I came that was the only way I saw him. When I conjured up a mental image of Sam, he looked the same - worried, deeply worried. Maybe Jacob had been right about me causing problems.

"I'll be back later," I told him, before I turned and walked off slowly. Sam's worried gaze watched me until I was out of sight, burning into the back of my skull, but I guess he knew better than to try to chase after me. I would only run, after all, and he knew I needed some space.

When I was at the treeline of the forest, I forced myself out of my slow shuffle and into a miserably paced jog. Running had been the only thing to keep my mind sane for a while, but I hadn't run in a long time, and I wasn't really in the mood right now. Still, I forced myself to run faster, weaving through trees and leaping over stray branches, and faster still.

Oddly, being out of breath in this way cleared my mind - contrasted with the fuzziness hyperventilating left me with. Such moments of clarity were afforded to me rarely these days. Still, I craved it. That, and the flow of endorphins in my veins. I needed it, and it seemed better to seek it in exercise than drugs or something, even if I had pushed myself to the point of passing out last time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Iris**

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

It was cold. Apparently, I hadn't considered that when I stormed out of the house and ventured into the woods, because now I was sitting on the forest floor with my arms wrapped around myself and my knees pulled to my chest as I attempted to conserve what body heat I had. It was also dark - something else I hadn't accounted for, apparently, because now I was lost.

 _Just call someone._

I knew that was the logical thing to do, the smart thing to do. I reached for the phone sitting beside me and fiddled with it. I unlocked it, then locked it, then unlocked it. I should call someone, tell them I'm lost. Call Emily, or Sam. Dad, even… Just someone.

 _Call Jacob._

Yeah, like that would happen. Besides, what was I thinking he would do, come running? I chuckled quietly to myself - it had been a while since I'd thought something so ridiculous. I sighed, stood up, and brushed the dirt from my jeans. I was not going to call anyone, I decided. Determined to find my own way out of the woods, I stumbled clumsily in the dark, using my phone to light the path.

* * *

Wandering in the forest at night, lost, wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. The cold bit at my fingers and the joints in my hand ached from the low temperature, but it offered a small distraction and allowed me to avoid thinking for a while. The situation didn't scare me as much as it had, it no longer carried the same gravity as it had earlier. Maybe I'd just become comfortable with the notion of being forever lost in the woods, never to be found in any breathing form. My body would return to the earth underfoot, and the great cycle of life would continue due to my sacrifice. It wasn't so bad, even if I became plant food. Or animal food. I entertained the thought of being eaten by a bear to pass the time, regardless of how morbid it seemed as I stumbled through the wood. Maybe one day, years from now, somebody would find my bones scattered on the forest floor, and would wander who I was and what had happened.

The bears were up in the mountains though, and I was almost certain that I hadn't wandered uphill.

My phone buzzed in my hand, although I barely felt the vibration through my numbed fingers. I quickly glanced at the screen.

Sam.

I was tempted to ignore his call, but suddenly the thought of being stuck out here anymore was overwhelming and, in a moment of weakness, I forgot all about being an independent woman who solved her own problems. No, right now I was a little girl who wanted to cry to her older cousin like she used to.

It was despicable, really.

"Iris?!" Sam's voice was panicked on the other side of the line, "Where are you?"

 _Don't you dare cry, Iris._

"Sam," I mumbled.

 _Don't. Cry._

"S-Sam, I-" My eyes glistened with unshed tears.

 _Do not cry, Iris Uley._

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but I knew it would be impossible. I took a shaky breath instead, and tried my best to remain intelligible. "I don't know," I cried quietly, "'m l-lost."

"Where?"

"The w-wood."

Sam inhaled sharply, and I heard him saying something to someone else. He'd covered the speaker, but even if the words were muffled, I still identified the concern in his tone.

"Stay where you are, Iris," he ordered. The authority in his voice brought the temptation to disobey, but I was silly, not stupid. "Someone will be there soon."

Sam hung up reluctantly, and I found myself much more lonely than I had felt earlier. Following his orders, I sat on the forest floor, ignoring the cool dampness. I figured I was deeper in the woods than I had been before. At least I didn't feel cold anymore, even though my hands had long since lost feeling. I took it as a bad sign though, and curled up on my side. My stomach ached with hunger as well, and I felt nauseated. Maybe I should have just sat with everyone else at breakfast. It was too late for that though, much too late to consider maybe's and what-if's.

I hadn't intended to cry, but the tears had begun to fall before I could stop them. It's not like I tried to stop though, instead letting the sobs rack through me, my shoulders jolting with each wail.

I cried, and cried until I tired myself out and fell asleep amongst the mud and leaves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Iris**

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

It was almost horror movie-ish. I awoke to the sound of a twig snapping and leaves crunching underfoot.

"Iris?"

I heard my name echo through the trees and sat up abruptly, scooting as far away from the voice as I could before my back hit the trunk of a tree.

"Iris." The voice called out from the darkness, and the silhouette of a large man hurriedly approached me. I couldn't identify who it was since the forest was so dark, only that there was movement a few feet away, and the outline of his figure moving in the darkness.

My breath became shorter as I watched the figure come closer, until it was standing in front of me. "Iris, relax." The man squatted in front of me, his voice gentle. "It's just me."

I recognised the scent before my eyes adjusted to just make out the features of his face, or my mind matched up his voice to his appearance. Jacob. Jacob was here. I was found. I was safe. No bears were going to eat me, nobody was going to attack me. Jacob was here.

I hated myself for feeling grateful towards him, once again.

Something heavy dropped over my shoulders, and I realised he'd given me his jacket. The action confused me, and I frowned up at him through the inky darkness. Why would he do that? He looked at me like I was stupid. "Put your arms in the sleeves," he ordered, making sure I followed his command, before reaching out for my hands. The warmth from his hands burned, pained my own chilled skin. The temperature difference was too large. I tried to pull my hands away, but his grip tightened and he wouldn't let me go. Perhaps he found comfort in paining me with a guise of compassion. And while his actions appeared to be kind, a storm brewed in his eyes: "You stupid, stupid girl. Where's your coat? Why didn't you call anyone? What were you thinking?" They weren't his thoughts though; they were the things he was saying for Sam, in place of his friend.

He didn't say any of those things though, just held my hands as he lent me some warmth. Maybe I'd imagined it - the things his gaze told me - there was no way he would ever be so kind as to scold me. He would have had to have cared about me for that. Black straightened up, pulled his phone from his pocket and made a phone call. He said a few short words - to Sam, I figured - before hanging up and slipping the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

He turned to look at me. "Can you walk?"

"Can you?"

I was sure he must have rolled his eyes, or at least gritted his teeth. I couldn't tell in the dark from this distance. But my attempt at making the situation a little more normal was apparently misinterpreted by the taller boy, who swiftly leant down, slipped his arm around my shoulders and the other beneath my knees-

"No, no, please don't! Please!"

-and promptly lifted me up.

He held me to his chest as I clung onto his neck for dear life. "Put me down, Black." What I had intended to sound like a strong demand came out as more of a desperate and panicked plea as I searched the inky darkness for the ground I had been so safely planted on earlier. Why was it that I couldn't see it anymore? What time was it, for it to be so _dark_?

I felt Black stiffen and halt mid-step, tilting his head to look down at me. "Of course it's not going to be that easy, is it sweetheart?" He sighed, reluctantly lowering me to the ground as he rolled his eyes. He kept his arm around my shoulders, sensing the weakness in my knees. "Scared of your own shadow too, or…?"

I would have glared at him, if I wasn't so busy trying to calm myself. Was it really that ridiculous that I was scared of being lifted? What was so unreasonable about being terrified of depending solely on somebody else to support you, about being several feet off the ground and horribly out of control of the situation? It was the ultimate trust exercise, one which nobody had yet passed. And Black was someone I definitely did not trust.

But then, there wasn't a word for it, and that probably meant it was a little absurd.

"That intent on stumbling through the forest in the dead of night for the next three hours, huh?"

I pulled away from Jacob's arm. The cold air was a harsh reminder of the loss of heat, but I tried my best to ignore it and instead set off in some random direction. I was sure Black would tell me - bully me - if I was going the wrong way.

"Do you think I'll drop you?" He caught up to me in two leaping bounds. I wished he hadn't.

"I think if you did, with that-t much muscle, it would be humiliating," I said, ignoring the chatter of my teeth - at least I could actually tell I was cold now. "Would-d prove those muscles are just for show, hurt-t your precious manliness."

Jacob slung his arm over my shoulders and steered me a little to the left. I was almost convinced that he was solely correcting my direction.

"Do you not trust me then?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't-t?"

"Well no," he said, "but I think you're scared of me."

I could have laughed at that. I could have laughed, but I didn't. I was too tired to laugh. Instead, I just shrugged. "I'm not-t."

It was a lie. I didn't quite feel bad about it though. Lying was bad, but it wasn't a lie that would hurt him. Sometimes people have to lie to protect themselves. Besides, Black was an asshole. I had no reason to be honest with him.

That's what I would try to convince myself of later, too.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you everyone for your lovely reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Iris**

 **Chapter Five**

* * *

"You know, this would be a hell of a lot quicker if you just let me carry you." Black sounded annoyed as he trod alongside me, apparently having much less difficulty navigating in the dark than me. He walked rather gracefully for a giant, whereas I stumbled over branches I couldn't see. I didn't understand why the ground looked so dark to me, yet he moved across it without disaster. He was higher up, right? Shouldn't it have been darker for him?

"Not happening."

I didn't need to look at his face to be sure of his expression: dark eyes full of frustration, lips pressed together, the muscle in his jaw fluttering. His aura was full of annoyance - caused by me, as always - and the general pissed-offness that seemed to be a permanent fixture in his life. Maybe he-

"Ahh!"

I was harshly yanked into Jacob's side as I stumbled dangerously over a fallen branch, my foot having caught on it. He paused, his arm wrapped around my waist as he looked down at me. The darkness hid most of his features, but I could tell his eyes were stormy again.

"Idiot," he said sharply, before releasing me.

I was almost convinced that was the end of it, and somehow I had escaped the terrible fate that the swirling in his eyes had hinted at. But I realised I was wrong when he swiftly swooped me into his arms.

"You jerk!" I cried, "Put me down right now."

"Not happening, sweetheart."

I would have beat at his chest, but that would have required removing my arms from the death latch around his neck and that was not happening.

I looked panickedly at the ground, before turning my desperate gaze to his undefined face. Maybe it was the tears, or the dark, that had left him featureless. "I'm not kidding, Black," I threatened, "put me down right now."

"Or what?" He sounded amused, and I wanted to wring his neck.

"Or… or I'll hit you."

The tanned giant laughed, actually laughed. It was the first time I heard him laugh in front of me: a hearty laugh of actual amusement. I didn't understand what was so funny. He didn't reply for some time, and instead continued walking.

"Like I said, much quicker carrying you." He'd said it under his breath, but I'd heard it clear as day.

* * *

Somewhere in the traumatic experience of being carried by an untrustworthy steroid abuser, I stressed myself out to the point of falling asleep. I wasn't sure how it happened, just that when I awoke, my face was buried in his neck and my arms had slackened from their tight grip around his thick neck. I jerked in his hold as I found myself in the unfamiliar situation, but his arms around me only tightened.

"Do you want me to drop you?" Black's question wasn't a kind offer of new-found sympathy for my terror, but rather carried the air of a threat: a clear message to stop squirming.

"Yes, please."

The little huff of air was one of amusement this time, not frustration, but he didn't reply.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Mmm, it's hard to say," he began, "We've been wandering these woods for about two days now, but you slept through most of it."

"What?!"

Black laughed harshly, his shoulders shaking. Jerk.

"Okay seriously, how long?"

"Maybe half an hour," he said, "We're close to the treeline now."

"Oh."

I hated to say it, but I had begun to feel more comfortable in his arms. The thought of being off of the ground terrified me, but it was one of those fears that you relaxed into - the longer I was exposed to it, the more I forgot about it. Still, I doubted that I would be any more eager next time somebody offered to carry me.

"How mad's Sam?" I asked.

Jacob didn't respond for a few minutes, and that was all the answer I needed. He was pissed, absolutely pissed.

"He's been madder," Jacob said carefully, but I found little comfort in his words.

"So like," I said, "On a scale of one to ten-"

"Oh, it's a ten," Black chuckled.

"Then I'm going to die."

"He's had some time to calm down about it," he said.

"I'm still going to die."

"Probably."

* * *

I'd thought that when we broke the treeline and appeared back in civilisation, I would feel a wave of something. Relief, maybe. Gratitude. A deterrence from the wood. I felt nothing though as we came through the thicket. I saw Sam's house in the distance. The light in the kitchen was still on, and smoke was coming from the chimney. It wouldn't be long now.

"Can I walk now?" I asked quietly, but Black only glared harshly at me and made no effort to release me. I guess I wasn't trusted to use my limbs anymore.

It was still late, I realised, or maybe it was just really early. I'd never been good at guessing the time, but Sam never failed to impress me when he glimpsed at the sky and accurately spouted out some hour. Still, it looked closer to morning than night.

Jacob marched up the porch steps and towards the door. Emily appeared from the depths of the house and pulled the door open wordlessly, but the look of relief on her face was crushing.

"Where's Sam?"

Emily smiled, but she didn't answer, and I realised the gravity of the situation. I was in more trouble than I'd ever been in in my entire life.

Black continued further into the house and towards the living room, with a worried Emily scurrying behind him with a tray. He deposited me down on the couch, and I sat up as Emily walked in.

"I thought you would be hungry," Emily said. I couldn't bring myself to look at her: I knew it would end me. Instead, I looked at the tray she had set on the coffee table. A glass of water, a sandwich, some cookies.

"Thank you," I said softly, reaching out for the drink. Black nudged the table closer to me with his knee. I shrugged off his jacket and held it out for him, but he looked at it as if it were toxic and made no move to retrieve it. I draped it over the back of the sofa.

I ate in silence, slowly, and trying to avoid eye contact. It felt like it was my last meal, the last thing I ate before I was sent off to my peril: Sam.

Surely enough, once I had polished off my sandwich and drank my water (I felt too nauseated to bring myself to eat the cookies), heavy footsteps sounded on the staircase. It was the sound of death approaching.

Death appeared in the doorway looking pissed. He only said one word, and I figured I should have been happy for that, but the tone was cold and my heart clenched at the prospect of him hating me.

"Iris."


	6. Chapter 6

**Iris**

 **Chapter Six**

* * *

I didn't sleep well for the rest of the night… or was it morning? I rolled out of bed two hours before my alarm was set to go off, and shuffled about my room restlessly and without a purpose for twenty minutes before heading to the bathroom. My legs didn't keep me in there long: I'd barely walked in before I was walking back out. And then I was pacing quietly in sock-clad feet down the length of the hallway upstairs, chewing nervously at my fingernails. Maybe the reason I'd woken up so early was that my body instinctively knew that I should attempt to avoid Sam at all costs.

I forced myself back into the bathroom and took a cold shower, washing my hair thoroughly and scrubbing at my skin. Cold showers were easier to take: they sucked, but I was out a lot faster, and I managed to avoid thinking anymore than what was necessary. When I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy white towel around me, I could hear voices coming from downstairs.

Maybe the cold water hadn't sped up the process at all, and Sam's friends were over for breakfast already.

I scampered across the hallway and to my room, having forgotten to bring fresh clothes with me. The boisterous laughter I closed my bedroom door on surely belonged to a group of males. I sighed, teeth chattering as I locked my door. I'd definitely been in the cold water too long.

The worn sweatpants and baggy shirt I had chosen to wear may not have been the most presentable of my clothes, but they were comfortable and I really couldn't be bothered. I skipped makeup. I felt too sorry for myself to try any harder.

When I slipped downstairs, I wondered how shocked Sam would be. Whenever guests were over, I usually got dressed. Rarely, I would come downstairs in pajama shorts, and would hastily bound back upstairs in embarrassment when seen. Never had I come downstairs in rags when I knew people were over.

But I knew I was grounded, even if Sam hadn't said it. I could tell from the look on his face last night, and the way Emily clucked nervously over me out of sympathy. I suddenly craved the chance to socialise, knowing I would be deprived of it for some time.

I was pleased at least to find that nobody had spoken about me in my absence, or at least if they had, the conversation had ended by the time I wandered into the front of the house. If anyone was shocked to see me coming in to say hi, they didn't show it, instead greeting me with a cheerfulness that I couldn't mirror.

"Morning!"

"Emily made muffins," Seth cheered.

I took one from the plate that had been set on the dining table, and pretended not to feel Sam's death stare burning into my back, or Jacob's always unnerving gaze in the corner of my eye. In fact, everyone was staring at me, just with varying levels of dissatisfaction. Seth, as always, seemed cheery enough and untouched by his friends' clear emotional instability - of whom moodily watched me pick out the blueberries from the top of my muffin. He chattered happily about school, or at least his complaining seemed more cheerful than it should have.

"Are you going to school tomorrow?" he asked.

I popped another blueberry in my mouth. "Yeah."

He nodded, snatching more bacon from a plate before Quil got to it, sending the boy a playful grin. "We can face Ms West together then," he laughed.

I nodded and smiled warmly. I'd always liked Seth: he was easy to get on with, and not as intimidating as the rest of Sam's friends or his sister.

The conversation died off, and another argument started at the table. It was normal, apparently, although it scared the hell out of me. Paul had taken the strip of bacon that Embry had called dibs on, and suddenly chairs were scraping against tiles and a shaking Paul was being hauled out of the house by a very pissed-off looking Sam. A mopey Embry trailed after them, sighing as he passed by me.

The room was silent as I stood frozen, unsure what had just happened. "Are… Are they okay?"

"Are _you_ okay?" Leah's question shocked me, her tone accusatory.

"Leah." Emily's voice was scolding, a warning.

"Sweetheart's fine," Black scoffed. "She just went a little…" He paused, making a circling motion around his temple with his index finger.

The room was eerily silent as all chatter died off, the clatter of cutlery ceased, and everyone turned to look between me and Jacob. Seth's eyes had widened, and he looked apologetically at me. The sound of glass smashing as it dropped echoed in the room, breaking the tension. Emily had broken something. Quil leapt to his feet to go help, but I was frozen. I couldn't turn and help clean up, couldn't ask if she was okay. All I could do was look at Black, note the chill in his eyes, the sternness of his dark looks. It cut me. The tiny flicker of warmth that had been growing in my chest - a trace of kindness for him, gratitude, friendship - extinguished like a lone ember, leaping into my throat and burning out. I knew I'd only begun to feel it because I was indebted to him.

And almost immediately, I was right back to hating him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Iris**

 **Chapter Seven**

* * *

I didn't come down for lunch. I didn't come down for anything for the whole day. I much preferred to be holed up in my room, all by myself. I didn't mind it, since my room was nice. It was small, but cozy, with enough room for the essentials: a bed, wardrobe, mirror, and even a small desk in the corner. The walls were cream, and the trim white. The desk was empty, save for my computer and the book I was reading for my English class. I hadn't gotten very far into it though, only a few pages. I didn't like the main character.

My bed was a mess like it always was. Sheets half-hanging off of the mattress, pillows thrown carelessly about. My wardrobe was tidy enough though, and I figured I should at least be happy with that. Potted plants lined my windowsill. Although I frequently forgot to water them, they were somehow alive. Either they were tough - tougher than me - or Emily was picking up my slack. Still, the flowers had long since wilted, the tiny ceramic pot only but a memory of fresh daisies. I couldn't find a reason to plant any more. I'd only done it in the first place because it was supposed to help.

I sighed, flopping onto my unmade bed. I couldn't understand why Jacob had done what he had done. He was nice enough when he found me in the wood - a little annoyed, but then when wasn't he? But this morning, he had been horrible. I hated him. I hated him I hated him I hated him. I was stupid for thinking that I didn't, stupid stupid stupid. I muffled my frustrated groans with my pillow.

Emily kept popping in worriedly, bringing a pitcher of water first, and later bearing a serving of whatever it was she'd made for lunch. She left quickly, and I was thankful for it. But I never turned to see what she had brought, or to touch it. The food went cold, the ice in the pitcher melted and a ring of condensed water surrounded the bottom of it. I was only vaguely aware of someone coming in and clearing the food away, although they left the water for me. It wouldn't matter, I wouldn't drink it.

I didn't know why I was so down about the whole Black thing. What he had said hadn't upset me so much as the public humiliation. It was the fact that he had said it in front of people - Sam's friends, Sam's soon-to-be wife - that was upsetting. That was why I couldn't bear to go downstairs, couldn't stand in front of the people who had witnessed it. It was too hard. I didn't want to socialise. It had been a bad idea. A bad, bad idea in the first place. I should have just sulked in my room for the next few weeks, until Sam was guilted into lifting my punishment and I was free once more to do as I pleased.

I sighed, closing my eyes, and tried to forget about everything.

* * *

When I opened my eyes again, the room was darker. The yellow light from a streetlamp outside spilled onto the wooden floor and over the bedsheets, and it was clear that I had slept much later than I had intended.

I was about to turn over to check the time on my phone when I heard the soft click of the door opening and closing. I laid still, attempting to breathe deeply to mimic sleep. Quiet footsteps moved closer to the bed, and then the mattress dipped with the heavy weight placed on it. I tried to identify who it was sitting next to me, but the body made no other motions and said nothing. It just sat there for a while, breathing quietly, shallowly. I could feel it hesitating in the darkness though, not because of some sound it made, just from the stiff way it was sitting. It didn't move, didn't say anything, didn't shift its weight.

The tiny huff of air being expelled was all I heard, and that was after at least ten minutes of calm quietness. The body shifted then, the springs groaned lowly with the adjustment of the weight, and then I felt the warmth of a human body closer against me. It didn't touch me, just laid out next to me, radiating heat.

I attempted to keep my breathing regular, deep, to avoid detection. The body hesitated for another long time, just laying there. Every so often I could feel the heat intensify as it reached out uncertainly for me: warm hands going to touch my shoulder, my arm, my back, and then jerking back as if burnt.

"I'm sorry," it breathed, and the darkness swallowed its words quickly. I couldn't recognise the voice; the warmth produced by the stranger and the deep relaxing breaths had lulled me to the edge of sleep. My tired mind was slow, and struggled to process the words, let alone connect the voice with a face.

"I'm so sorry, Iris," it murmured. Another moment passed by quietly. The springs of the mattress creaked as the body sat up and leaned over me. A heated hand reached out to brush my cheek, but retracted without making contact.

A tiny sigh, a whispered curse.

And then it was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Iris**

 **Chapter Eight**

* * *

I had been almost certain it was a dream. Sam Uley was not a man who apologised. If he had something to say, or something to regret, I would have seen the torment burning in his eyes for much longer before he did anything about it, and even then it would have been one of those apologies that weren't really apologies. He would had just talked around it like always, I would have taken pity on his poor self, and everything would have been back to the way it was. At least, that was how it had been when we were kids. It shocked me that he would be so haunted by treating me like this - by ignoring me indefinitely, convincing me he hated me - that it would stir him to make his apology in the dead of night. But still, the warmth was familiar, and it seemed only obvious that he was the one who apologised. It had been his guilt that had drove him to make such a pitiful apology.

I wept.

I convinced myself that it was for him, but I felt just as sorry for myself.

* * *

I hurried downstairs the next morning, half asleep, and completely regretting everything. My eyes were puffy, and red, and my face was splotchy. I should have kept it together, for the sake of normalcy at least. I'd managed to hide most of it with some makeup, except the puffy eyes, and had dressed in a casual sweater and jeans. Pulling on my shoes sleepily, I was determined to have a nice breakfast before having to head out.

"Morning, Iris," Sam's group of friends greeted me around mouthfuls of toast and scrambled eggs.

"Hi," I chirped, although thoroughly disgusted with their table manners. I seated myself next to Seth, who beamed at me, but avoided conversation in order to scarf down his breakfast.

"Ready for school?" Emily's voice was teasing as she served me a sunny-side up egg with a slice of toast, but I wasn't stupid. I knew she was testing the waters. Sam had probably told her to.

I gave her a look, and she grinned. "What do you think?"

She chuckled, patting my head, before continuing to serve the others. They never seemed to stop eating.

I ate my food slowly, partially due to the unease I felt at Black's stare. I forced myself to meet his eyes a few times, but he didn't show any remorse in being caught. He didn't turn away or dip his chin. I realised that the brown wasn't as cold or dark as it had been yesterday. He was trying his best to keep his face bland, detached. I wished he would teach me how to be so uncaring about everything - it would probably help me out a lot.

Sam appeared in the kitchen later, greeting Emily with a kiss on the cheek as he stole a piece of toast she had buttered. She glared playfully as he bit into it, and I averted my gaze. Even when the two weren't doing anything particularly romantic, I always felt like I was intruding on something private.

When he came to sit down, it was not without a look I couldn't identify being thrown my way. I didn't know why I was having so much difficulty reading people lately, or maybe it was just that I didn't know what emotions looked like on other people's faces unless they were anger or hatred. Either way, I couldn't identify the look he gave me as anything other than something I should have recognised, but I seemed to be lacking in that ability.

Seth was tugging at my sleeve twenty minutes later with all the energy of a little kid, telling me to hurry up and walk with him or he would leave me behind. I laughed, slinging my bag over my shoulder, as I allowed myself to stumble after the group of boys out the front door. We hadn't gotten very far down the path before Seth had hesitantly released my wrist, giving Jacob a meek look. Embry and Paul snickered from ahead and Quil opened his mouth to say something before Black shoved him.

Needless to say, I had absolutely no idea what was going on.

* * *

The good mood I had woken up with didn't follow me very far into the morning. By lunch, I had had enough with the hushed murmurs that seemed to follow me down the halls and the looks people were giving me. It was because I was hanging out with Sam's supposedly steroid-abusing friends. At least, that's what I told myself. I knew they weren't just talking about that though. They were all secretly discussing my life as if it were some tv drama. False truths were recounted over cafeteria lunch, echoed down long hallways as I passed by huddled groups of gossipy girls.

 _"I heard she spent last summer in a mental hospital."_

 _"I'm sure Sam was happy to have her out of his house."_

 _"No way, she was totally screwing with those kids back in Forks then."_

 _"She's too much of a prude for that, Kylie."_

 _"She'd do it for enough money. Look at her."_

 _"What do you mean look at her? Her face is disgusting."_

Paul seating himself to my left was enough to stir me from my silent reflection of today's ridicule and stop me from eavesdropping on the conversation taking place at the table behind ours. I tensed as he fell into his chair, swearing quietly under his breath. I didn't trust him. I hated to say it, because he seemed nice enough, but he wasn't exactly known for bright smiles and helping the elderly cross roads. His temper had gotten him into enough fights at school - I would know, since Sam always had to sort things out for him. He was my cousin too, and just as intimidating as Sam, but somehow the two differed enough for Paul's presence to put me on edge. When Sam was mad, he just looked like he was going to hit someone; Paul actually would.

"Where were you?" Quil asked.

"Does it matter?" Paul growled lowly. I shifted subtly in my seat, so I wasn't quite so close to him. Everyone proceeded to ignore him and his temper, having the sense not to prod him. I was thankful. I was the one sitting next to him.

"Aren't you eating?" Embry frowned at me from across the table, and I froze under the group's stares.

I glanced down at the cold fries, not realising how much I had left untouched. I'd thought I had at least eaten enough to go unnoticed. "I'm not feeling so well," I said carefully. It wasn't a complete lie, at least.

"Do you want to go home?" Quil asked, "If you're sick, you should rest."

"Yeah, Jake will drive you. " Seth smiled encouragingly. The older boy glared at Seth, although he seemed unfazed and gave his friend a disapproving look. "She's sick, Jacob."

I shook my head. "I'll be okay," I smiled. "Besides, I don't want to cause Jacob any trouble."

Embry smirked. "Oh, no, I'm sure he doesn't-"

The awful sound of chair legs scraping along the floor made my stomach turn. I frowned in confusion: the very person I hated was on his feet in front of me, keys in hand as he watched me silently.

* * *

 **A/N: So my holidays are over and school has started up again here, so I'm going to slow down with my updates. I'll try to get out a new chapter every week. And, thank you everyone for all of your wonderful reviews and your support!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Iris**

 **Chapter Nine**

* * *

Black had an awful habit of dragging me, I realised, once more finding his warm fingers wrapped around my wrist as he tugged me along through the parking lot. He'd already gotten me dismissed for the day: one mention of Sam Uley to the receptionist and I was excused. It was a little ridiculous really, and I was sure that Sam was going to be mad.

"Jacob, listen to me," I gasped, tired from trying to keep up with his pace. "Listen," I repeated when he continued to tug me towards his car. "Listen!" I tried to shake off his hand desperately, but his grip wouldn't relent. Instead he merely stopped, span on his heel and stared down at me.

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm not sick."

He tipped his head back and let out a harsh bark of laughter. "What, so sweetheart's trying to skip classes now?" His face was hard, seething as he narrowed his eyes down at me. "How cute."

"It's not like that," I said.

"Then what?" He stepped closer, voice dropping lower. "What's it like?"

There was something about Jacob that made being around him difficult. From a certain distance he was bearable - I could stare at him from across a room and only feel slightly uneasy - but when he was close I felt like I was suffocating.

He was standing too close, his hot breath fanning over my face, and I felt like I might faint.

"Well, sweetheart?"

Then again, I'd been feeling like I was suffocating all day, and the whole feeling faint thing wasn't anything new either.

"Nothing," I said softly, "It's like nothing." Maybe central to the whole thing was the fact that I refused to let him have this kind of effect on me. Or at least acknowledge it.

"Then let's go," he said gruffly. He turned back around and dragged me out the door.

* * *

He drove in silence, although the grip he had on the wheel made me nervous. His hands were tight, his knuckles whitening where bone pressed against tan skin. His eyes were clear though, his face no longer scrunched up into his earlier scowl. He liked driving, I realised. It made him easier to look at, at least, easier to not be so nervous in his presence.

"What are you looking at?" he grumbled under his breath.

I hid my amusement and glanced out the window. Even if driving made him easier to look at, it apparently didn't improve his mood too much. Maybe I'd just annoyed him a lot and driving couldn't pull him completely out of that.

Raindrops started to patter onto the windows, and I leaned my head against the glass. It hadn't rained in a couple of days, so I knew it was coming, but I still hated it. I used to like the rain, until it had become a permanent fixture in my life when my parents decided to move back here four years ago.

"What are you going to say to Sam?"

Black scoffed, turning on the windscreen wipers. "That problem's all yours, sweetheart."

I turned to him, "You're the one who made me leave early!"

"Because you complained."

"You dragged me out to the parking lot!"

"You said you felt sick."

"You threatened to pick me up and put me in the car if I didn't get in!"

"I thought maybe you felt too ill to do it yourself," he smirked, "Needed a little help."

I wasn't sure which was stronger: the urge to yell at him, or the urge to cry.

* * *

Sam's gaze was cold as he watched me from the other side of the table. Emily scurried around, serving warm tea. Sam's tenseness had put her in a panic. Jacob sat to my left with apparent disinterest. He had told me he was just sticking around for the ride, but part of me suspected that he felt a certain responsibility to make sure I wasn't murdered by my cousin.

Sam waited until the tea was served and Emily was seated next to him before leaning forward. He wasn't interested in the steaming cup in front of him, it seemed, but much rather the issue at hand. "Why aren't you at school?"

I tried to keep eye contact, but it was difficult, and I settled for staring at the cup of tea I was using to warm my hands. How was I supposed to answer that? If I told him I felt sick, Jacob would surely betray me. If I made up something, Jacob would surely betray me. If I said anything, Black would surely leap at the opportunity to make my life more difficult than it already was, just for the fun of it.

"She felt sick."

I was shocked to hear Jacob protecting me, but did my best to hide it. I wanted to look over at Black and see what his deal was, but I was too scared. Too afraid that he would retract his statement and announce that it had been a lie, just to watch me burn. His eyes would dance. Maybe he was sick like that.

I looked into the teacup with an expressionless face, hesitant to take a sip. It smelt like Christmas: orange peels and cinnamon. I didn't like the scent, but I distracted myself with taking a sip of it. It tasted like Christmas too. I didn't like the taste, but I took another sip before placing it back down on the table. I didn't want to make Emily feel like I didn't appreciate it.

"Should I call a doctor?" Emily questioned. "Iris, do you want me to call a doctor?"

I shook my head slowly, "No, thank you."

"Because she's not really sick," Sam said. "Of course she doesn't want a doctor to come."

"She didn't eat lunch," Jacob said.

I lifted my gaze immediately, turning to look at him with panic. He'd thrown me in the deep end, and he hadn't realised it. Reluctantly, I turned to look at Sam. He said nothing to me. He stared with eyes drowning in emotion, and suddenly I felt like I had done something very unfair to him.

"It's not-"

Sam cut me off. "It is," he said, not once breaking eye contact with me.

Emily offered that same smile of pity she'd sent me when I first came to stay with them.

Jacob sat confused to my left, the crevice between his brows deepening as time went on. He couldn't understand the damage he had done.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for your reviews. Your feedback is really helpful in developing my writing! Just thought I would explain a few things about Iris and Jacob, just because it's a little difficult to explain both sides of the story when I'm only using one POV, and I didn't want anyone to get upset about this story.**

Basically, Iris and Jacob don't get along (you probably all already know that). But don't worry MoonlitShadow, I don't have anything against Jacob, I just chose to write about him~ The way he interacts with Iris is difficult and rather unsettling. I myself had to take breaks in writing some scenes because it became a little too much, so I understand if it is difficult for some readers to read.

 **For this reason I've been considering changing the rating to M, or adding a trigger warning, but have yet to decide what to do. **

**What would you guys recommend?**

Jacob has a lot of problems with the whole situation. He fights against the imprint desperately, and it causes him to lash out at Iris and say/do hurtful things. It's inexcusable, especially when she is someone he is supposed to protect. He is hurting, after having his choice stripped away from him and losing any chance he had with his childhood crush, and he hurts her in response. His imprinting on Iris determined his entire future, and Jacob blames her for it rather than looking past it and attempting to move on.

Empowerment is something that Iris does definitely need, as Wikked said. Her personality is something that will keep her from making a scene at school about her feelings though, I think. Iris isn't someone who particularly likes being placed in situations where she is spoken about badly. She is weak-willed in that regard, and on the occasion that she grows a backbone, the situation often spirals out of control and she is left regretting things. She agrees entirely that Jacob is a heartless ass though, I'm sure!

Re: chapter seven - Was it Jacob? Or was it Sam? Oooooh~


	10. Chapter 10

**Iris**

 **Chapter Ten**

* * *

Sam had become convinced that I was depressed again, which I wasn't, but nobody listens to you when they think you have a reason to lie. I was still shipped off to school like usual, but my grounding was lifted - Emily thought it was important that I was able to go outside - and I was sure it was only my adamant refusal to return to my therapist that kept any appointments from being booked. I guessed Sam and Emily were too scared to set me off.

"Knock, knock!" Quil's voice interrupted the peaceful quietness of my room, the tanned boy thumping on the door frame. I glanced up from the book in my hands to the group of boys who had crowded into the space in the hall just outside of my door. I felt like rolling my eyes.

"Iris, did you want to come hang out?" Seth's voice was sympathetic from the doorway, gentle, as if he were coaxing some stressed animal out of hiding. "We were going to go to the beach."

I wondered who had put them up to it: Sam or Emily. Still, it was only the knowledge that being outside would ease some of Sam and Emily's worries - and, hopefully, their beliefs that I needed to go back to my therapist - that convinced me to offer a tiny smile.

"Sure," I said as pleasantly as I could, "Just let me get changed."

* * *

I trudged along in the sand down to First Beach with Seth next to me. He kept offering me tiny sunny grins, and I had a feeling the rest of the boys had told him to walk with me. His smiles were contagious, and I guess they thought I needed some.

"Weather's nice," he commented.

I hummed in agreement, looking up at the sky. The weather was nice for the beach, or at least as nice as it ever got here. Sunny, still a little cold, but not a cloud in sight.

"You going to swim with us?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said, then caught the look Jacob shot back at us. "If Black promises not to drown me."

"He wouldn't," Seth said, "Never."

I laughed, "Wouldn't count on it."

"I'm serious, he wouldn't."

I stopped walking to give him a look, but was distracted by Embry's girly squeal from nearby. Turning, I saw him running in the shallow water, drenched, as he chased after a hysterical Paul. He caught up to him and dunked his head in the water, before rushing off in the other direction.

"Play nice kids!" Jacob called out. Paul gave him the finger before taking off after his attacker.

"Told you it would be fun," Seth teased, catching the grin I was trying to hide.

* * *

"Cliff diving?"

"Why not?" Embry asked me, "Unless you're too _scared_."

I scoffed, making my way up the cliff with the other boys. "It's just water. I'm not scared."

"You don't have to jump," Seth said.

"I'm not scared."

"Uh-huh, sure," Paul laughed.

"I'm not!"

Embry's lips stretched slowly into a smile. "If you say so."

"Seriously, I'm not!"

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Simple," Quil said. "You jump first."

"Fine," I agreed. There was no way I was losing to Quil Ateara and Embry Call. Besides, it was just a little water, a little hill. Nothing to be scared of.

We made our way up to the cliff edge that was frequently in use by Sam's group, stopping short of the edge.

"Are you sure we should let her go?" Seth sounded nervous as he peered over the edge, "Maybe one of us should go first."

"Don't let her off the hook so easily," Quil pouted.

"A deal's a deal," Embry nodded.

I peered over the edge of the cliff, down at the water below. It was dark blue, not quite peaceful but not vicious, water crashing against the rocks at the bottom with the tide. The drop would be long, I realised. It was the tallest cliff on the beach.

"You gonna stare all day or are you gonna jump?"

I stepped back from the edge and glanced back at the boys behind me.

"Look at her. She's gone so pale. No way she's gonna jump." Paul's words were harsh, but he delivered them with a voice filled with sympathy.

"Hey, sweetheart, you don't have to if you don't want to," Jacob said.

It was funny - he almost sounded concerned. Even Black was having second thoughts, it seemed.

I slipped my shirt over my head quickly, and shimmied out of my shorts. My clothes hit the dirt almost soundlessly, landing next to the pair of sandals I'd taken off, and leaving me standing in my two-piece. A wolf-whistle sounded behind me, followed by the quiet thud of whoever it was getting hit over the head, and a chorus of howling laughter.

"Go on then," Embry egged me on. "Jump."

"Embry," Seth chided, "don't force her."

Hesitantly, I stepped closer to the edge. I'd never jumped before, but adrenaline pumped through my veins at the sight of the drop and the crashing waves beneath me. I took a few steps back before running towards the edge and leaping.

"Holy shit!" I heard Paul shout, "She actually jumped!"

"Dude, five bucks! You owe me five bucks!"

The blue sheet of water rushed at me quickly, the wind whooshing past me as I fell. I barely remembered to take a deep breath before I hit the water.

It was colder than I had expected, and I plummeted deep into the icy depths after hitting the surface, the faint stinging in my skin still biting. Embry had been right though - the rush of adrenaline was unlike any thrill I had ever had. Still, I was going to kill him for this. It was freezing.

I struggled to swim upwards, towards the surface, but found that my limbs were weak. The flow of chemicals might have made me feel good for a while, but the adrenaline rush had made me flighty and my brain panicked. I clawed desperately with my arms and tried my best to kick in the water, but my struggle was marked with little progress and instead a multitude of bubbles drifting from my nose and up towards the surface. The more I struggled, the more disoriented I became, until I was no longer sure which way was up.

I screamed in panic beneath the water, bubbles of oxygen leaving my mouth before some degree of sense flooded over me and I clamped it shut abruptly. It had been a stupid idea - I needed to save oxygen.

Fatigue plagued my legs, and I sank deeper still. I wanted to fight against it. It was just water.

But there was so much - so much water, surrounding me, pulling me further under. Soon it would claim me completely; its tendrils of icy cold had already filled my ears and were creeping up my nostrils.

I'd held my breath before, competing with Sam and Paul when we were younger to see who could hold their breath longer (they both cheated), but this wasn't like that. Back then, it had been a competition, fun. Now it was a part of my survival, and suddenly infinitely more difficult. It was like trying to ignore something innate, some basic instinct that could not be ignored. My body needed air. My lungs needed air.

I needed air.

And just like that, I inhaled.

The burning was familiar, although I'd never been in this situation before. Icy water rushed into my lungs. Of course, one unsatisfying breath only caused another to be drawn, until more and more water had flowed into my lungs. I thrashed in the water. I could see the glimmer of light bouncing off of the ripples of the surface - a warm light, golden, shining through the water. I needed to be there, I knew it. I had to be up there, but I couldn't fight it anymore.

One last desperate kick of my legs, one last attempt to pull myself towards the water's surface, and then I was still. It wouldn't help, just tire me out faster.

I let myself drift…

Everything was so quiet under the ocean surface, I realised. So peaceful, calm. There weren't fish out here, no coral beds I could see beneath me. Just water; cool, calm water. It had swallowed me up, wrapped me up in a blanket of cold. Soon it would own me entirely.

More water rushed down my nostrils, into my mouth. It hurt, but not enough to make a difference. Calm washed over me, surrounded me. I moved my arm through it. My body was burning. My legs were burning. My throat was burning. Everything was burning.

A loud splash to my left. A thousand bubbles floating up towards the sun.

I closed my eyes - they were burning too.

I let myself fall…

My wrist was burning.

Another breath, more water…

And then it was dark.


	11. Chapter 11

**Iris**

 **Chapter Eleven**

* * *

I was back home.

It was something that should have worried me more than it did, but I quickly realised it wasn't real. The edges of my vision were foggy, a white haze clinging to the outskirts of what I could see. Was I dead?

Cars passed by on the road slower than they should have: first a red one, then a taxi, a school bus, and then the same red one. It didn't freak me out as much as it should have. I turned my head. My mother was sitting across from me on the front porch, cradling a cup of tea with graceful hands. She was smiling, a wide smile I hadn't seen in so long, across at me. Her hazel eyes lit up her face as she leaned over the table. I recognised the words her mouth curved around, although her voice didn't seem to pass her lips. School. My best friend. Boys. The last one was accompanied with a little wriggle of her eyebrows as she teased me, and I snorted a laugh. I told her school was a bore, boys were confusing creatures and that I had sworn them off for now, and that Melanie and I were in the middle of a fight. She nodded sympathetically and poured me more tea.

My father's car pulled up in the driveway, and the Quileute man stepped out of his car. He jogged up the porch steps lightly and kissed my mother quickly. She asked him how work was. He said he'd gotten a raise. My mother's face glowed with pride. Dad pulled out the good wine that night from the cellar, and my parents clinked their glasses to a promise. It was almost normal, something out of a story. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye as he ate his potatoes. I thought I caught something glimmering in the dark; a mistruth, maybe. He'd always had secretive eyes.

 _"Iris."_

The dining room shifted. I sat frozen in my place at the table as the walls covered in family portraits were pushed further out. The table sunk into the floor before my eyes, and the chair flung me to my feet before vanishing. My parents were blown to dust with a gentle breeze from the window.

And then I was standing in the living room, arriving home after a shopping trip with my mother up in Seattle. My eyes widened with horror, even though I'd seen it before. My mother offered only a tiny sob as any sign of distress at my father's betrayal. My father was curled up under a blanket with a stranger, gaping stupidly as he tried to weave some sort of excuse or explanation. My mother held her chin high as she turned on her heel and stalked out of the house. His eyes turned to me, darker than before. His mouth wrapped around his plea for me to wait, but no sound ever came. I walked outside.

 _"Breathe. C'mon, breathe!"_

The view of my street shifted before my eyes, twisting and morphing into another setting. Green lawn replaced the wooden porch beneath my feet, trees taking up the space that houses earlier occupied. Somber black attire surrounded me: a sea of suits and modest dresses. The priest stood by the coffin and offered comfort that I couldn't hear. I was at the funeral. My father was hanging around somewhere near the edges, but I didn't look for his black eyes. I just stared as my cousins gently placed white rose petals on the lid of her coffin. Paul stood next to me, squeezing my shoulder. I watched his lips as he spoke, but I couldn't hear the words of comfort, just saw my cousin drowning in empathy. Sam pulled me into his chest and stroked my hair. I hadn't realised I was crying until then. I watched as my mother was lowered into the ground.

 _"Iris!"_

My mother's coffin faded. The trees dematerialised. The sea of black disappeared, and Sam's warm arms around me dissolved. I watched as the grass slowly turned to sand, blade by blade, grain by grain. The bitter weeps of mourning faded to the quiet whoosh of the ebb and flow of the tide nearby. Quiet. Peaceful. Empty.

 _"Breathe, Iris!"_

I watched from a distance, staring at my lifeless body on the shore. Someone was leaning over me, pumping my chest. Dead-me didn't respond.

The unidentified man pressed his mouth to my lips. They'd turned blue, I realised, and my fingernails a faint purple. He breathed twice for me, and I saw my chest rise, before he was back to hitting my chest.

I drifted closer towards myself, towards him.

Thirty pumps, two breaths, thirty pumps, two breaths…

 _"For fuck's sake, just breathe, would you?!"_

A drop of water dripped onto my pale cheek. And then another.

Tears.

 _"Iris,"_ he gasped. _"Iris, please."_

I didn't want to see this.

I felt the pull. It was like a string attached to my heart had been gently tugged, bringing me closer to my motionless body. I knew I had to go back, knew I had to return. I couldn't leave like this, couldn't let this happen.

Still, I tried to resist.

 _"Breathe,"_ the man begged. His voice broke. He pressed his lips to mine again, breathing for me.

The string was jerked once more, harder this time, with more force. I stumbled across the sand. A little closer, a few steps away.

 _"Breathe,"_ he repeated, more sternly this time, but it somehow sounded more desperate at the same time. I felt sick.

The string was wrenched. I flew forwards, unable to resist the pull, and I fell into myself.

My vision became hazy. The clear view I had moments earlier of the beach was blurry, the man impossible to identify through my cloudy vision. The sound of water hushed, quieted. The beach grew darker, darker, darker.

I heard only a whisper.

 _"Come back, Iris."_

And then it was silent, dark once more.


	12. Chapter 12

**Iris**

 **Chapter Twelve**

* * *

"She's breathing!"

I coughed up salt water painfully, leaning to one side as it came out my nose and mouth. It burned. A warm hand stroked my hair as I gasped for air - sweet, precious air. My lungs filled greedily.

"Iris?" The voice was tense, expecting the worst still. I scrunched up my nose. "Iris, can you hear me?"

I nodded slowly, blinking my eyes open. They burnt, and flooded with regret I squeezed them shut again. "Y-Yeah," I said. My voice was hoarse. It hurt to talk. Apparently it hurt to do anything at this point.

An arm wrapped around my shoulders and lifted me up until I was seated. I opened my eyes and tried to keep them open this time to survey my surroundings. I was surrounded by Sam's friends: Seth's eyes were red and Embry looked like he was about to drop to my feet and swear his firstborn to me.

"Are you okay?" Quil's voice was dripping in guilt as he stepped closer. The group followed, drifting closer to me.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry! I never thought this would happen." Embry stepped closer. Again, the group took another step.

I shook my head slowly, a small smile on my face. I was trying to communicate that it was okay, that I forgave them. It would hurt too much to say it, I was sure.

Seth reached out for me, his eyes shining.

"Don't touch her!" The warning was more of a growl than anything, voice dark and rough. It had Seth quickly backing up, and Paul grabbing Quil and Embry by the ears to haul them away.

"Dude, calm down," Paul said. "Nobody's touching her."

"Don't," it continued, "D-don't."

I realised it was Black. Black was holding me in his shaking arms. Black had snarled at his friends. Black had…

Black had saved my-

My hands reached up to touch my lips, horrified. Black had-

I shuddered. His arms tightened around me. It seemed as though he had mistakenly assumed the cause of my chills was the cold. I heard him taking deep breaths by my ear. His breath tickled my ear and goosebumps rose along the skin of my shoulder.

I turned my head as much as I could to look into his eyes. They were dark, stormy. He was mad. Again. Suddenly I was desperate to be as far away from him as I could be - more desperate than usual. I struggled weakly in his arms, but he didn't seem intent on letting me go.

"Just relax. She's okay. Nobody's going to touch her," Paul repeated.

Jacob looked down at me, and suddenly I felt uncomfortable being so close to his face. His eyes stared holes into mine, and I had the odd feeling that he was looking right through me. His arms around me tensed momentarily and the muscle in his jaw fluttered, but he remained silent.

"Always ready to hit someone, aren't you?" I laughed breathlessly. It hurt. I'd expected it to hurt, but expecting the burning in my throat hadn't made it any more bearable. "Really gotta get a handle on-" I cut myself off with a harsh cough, dropping my head to his chest.

"Don't talk." He almost didn't sound human, but the warm hand rubbing my back was too kind for a monster. "Just… shut up for a minute."

His arms tightened around me and his cheek rested on top of my head.

I didn't say a word.

* * *

"Honestly, I leave you idiots with my cousin for _one hour_ and you almost _kill_ her." Sam's voice held humour, but I could tell it wasn't genuine amusement in his tone. Instead, I recognised it as an ill-attempt at masking the anger burning in his eyes. His stare was threatening as he looked in turn at each offending male, an unspoken promise of violence lurking in the depths if any of them dared to challenge him.

I stood on the front lawn with the rest of the boys, shivering with a towel draped over my shoulders. Waves of heat rolled over me from my left where a very angry-looking Jacob stood, the length of his toned arm brushing against my skin and transferring heat. I tried to ignore the tiny zaps of static electricity that passed through the skin wherever his russet skin met mine. It almost seemed deliberate, from the relaxed look on his face, but I thought I caught what could be - in some alternate universe where he actually cared - a self-loathing look in his eyes.

"You should know better than to endanger her like that."

I caught Jacob's hands curling into fists at his sides from the corner of my eyes.

Seth looked ashamed, even though he hadn't done anything. Quil looked like he longed to be anywhere but here. Embry just felt… wrong. His goofy grin was gone, his mood marred by the weight of the guilt hanging off of him.

"And you." Sam's gaze flicked over to me. "No more cliff diving. Ever again."

"Sam," I whined, "that's not fair."

"That's too bad."

"But I liked it!" I complained, "I mean, not the drowning part, but the jumping bit was pretty cool and-"

Sam's eyes darkened dangerously, his voice gruff. "Never again, Iris."

The authoritative tone in his voice angered me. Since when did _he_ get to decide what I did and didn't do? I knew this was an argument that I wasn't going to win, but that had never stopped me from saying hurtful things before. I knew I'd come to regret it - I always did. "Sorry, but I'm not sure when _you_ became my father."

"I'm just trying to do the right thing by you, Iris." He said the words carefully, as if he was trying to explain something to a toddler. I hated it.

"Like always, right?" I scoffed.

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened. "Iris, while you live under my roof, you will do what I say. And I say you are forbidden from-"

"Fuck off, Sam," I muttered.

Sam's eyes were fire and immediately, I realised I had done something I shouldn't have.

"Sam-" Jared had come out from inside. I wasn't sure how he knew he was needed, but he appeared quickly and almost too aware of what had been said. His voice was stern. I could see Emily peering out with worried eyes from the kitchen window. "Sam, calm-"

"It's not my fault that your father doesn't give a fuck about you," Sam said darkly, his tone venomous. He spat the words out like drops of poison, each one intended to hurt. Tremors rolled up his arms and his mouth twitched.

"Sam-" Jacob stepped forward. Paul and Embry stepped closer towards my cousin. Jared hung uneasily next to him. I hadn't realised a single swear would push him so far. He was overreacting.

"But I do," he continued. "I fucking do, and I gave you a home when you didn't have one, and you-"

Seth grabbed me by the sleeve and hauled me back a few steps. I stumbled, but didn't fight against his grip. Jared tried to get in front of Sam, tried to place his hands on his trembling shoulders and look him in the eyes.

"Calm down, dude. You're gonna-"

Sam shoved him out of the way. He scowled at me with hatred. He took a single step forward, his eyes dangerous. I was sure someone growled - like actually _fucking growled like some wild dog._

"I didn't ask for-"

And then there was the sound of fabric ripping followed by an animalistic snarl. And in the time it had taken me to blink, a huge black wolf had taken up the space my cousin previously occupied.


	13. Chapter 13

**Iris**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

I didn't handle it well. I don't think anyone would handle their cousin morphing into a carnivorous wolf with murderous eyes in front of them well.

If I had thought Sam was intimidating as a human, then I didn't know how to describe him as a wolf. He was much larger, the size of a horse, with pitch black fur and rage-filled golden eyes. Wolf-Sam glowered at me, his lip curling around a spine-chilling snarl and revealing razor sharp incisors.

But, of course, one wolf wasn't enough. The group shifted quickly, exploded into large wild dogs with practiced skill. And then there were five. Five wolves. Right in front of me. Growling lowly as they circled around Sam in the middle.

I screamed.

I'd always taken pride in my scream, which was an odd thing to think to oneself, I realised. But it was high-pitched, and very, _very_ loud. It alerted people of distress quickly. Sent people running: strangers, friends, family. It didn't matter. The shrill screech had the same effect on everyone.

Seth's hand clamped over my mouth quickly though. I turned my panicked hazel eyes to his sympathetic smile.

"It's okay," he assured, "They're not gonna hurt you."

Quil grinned and nudged my shoulder gently. "Pretty cool, huh?"

I shook my head wildly. No. Not cool. Very not cool. Dangerous. Very _very_ dangerous.

Quil laughed.

I watched in terror as the wolves fought amongst each other. Sam bared his teeth to the others, swiping wildly at one when it approached with his massive paw and sending it flying across the yard. My eyes widened, my breath becoming short. I watched as the dark silver wolf hauled himself to his feet.

Another wolf rushed at the black one, and the two snapped at each other for a moment, jumping and ducking to avoid the other's attacks. A third rushed in and pounced on Sam, who shook it off of him. It crashed into the porch, falling through the wooden decking. Seth had since removed his hand from my mouth, although I wasn't sure when, just that he had.

The familiar feeling had crawled up from the depths of my chest to rest in my throat. The tightness in my chest was back, the knowledge that death was approaching. I was going to die. The wolf was going to maul me. Sam was going to maul me. Perhaps he couldn't stop himself. Perhaps he wouldn't try to. I was going to die. It was an obvious fate, a truth that couldn't be avoided. The tingling feeling that usually only haunted my hands and feet had climbed up my limbs and crept into my face.

The wolf closest to me turned around. Dark eyes stared at me and filled me with dread. His large head swung from the fight back to me, his gaze too intelligent for an animal and probably too intelligent for one of Sam's junkie friends too.

I realised that it wasn't the black wolf that would eat me, it was this one. Russet brown.

I struggled for breath as he glared at me, gasping as I tried to breathe. Each breath I drew was unsatisfying, empty, useless.

"Iris?" Quil's hand on me was uncomfortable. I slipped out of his grasp and stepped back, avoiding eye contact desperately."Iris, you okay?"

No. I wanted to tell him that, tell him that I wasn't okay. I couldn't breathe. I was going to die. My hands were a memory, my feet numb. I couldn't breathe. Seth looked at me worriedly and called out to me. I wanted to respond. I wanted to tell him what was wrong. I couldn't. I couldn't speak. I opened my mouth but all that came out was a strangled sob. I fought to catch my breath, but instead I just stood there and wheezed. I was going to die. I was going to be slaughtered by a pack of wolves. I felt the ground shifting beneath me.

"Iris?!"

Sam.

Suddenly he was standing over me, looking down at me, an overcast sky the backdrop to his concerned face. I wasn't sure when I fell though, how I ended up on the grass. I didn't spare it much thought. I didn't have time. I was dying. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't-

"Iris, listen to me."

"Sam, I can't breathe," I wanted to say. But my lungs wouldn't fill and the words jarred in my throat and a harsh sob drowned out the thought.

"You need to breathe, Iris. Deep breaths."

Sam, I can't _breathe_. Help me. Please, Sam.

"Iris!"

I can't-

* * *

I woke up a moment later on the living room couch, pillows shoved beneath my feet to elevate my legs and Jacob Black glaring at me from the corner of the room. He gave me a hard look as he stood from his chair.

He said nothing as he stalked out.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Thank you for all of your reviews; I always love to hear what you guys think!**

Ariana Van Pelt: Thank you for your lovely comments~ Generally, I update once a week (usually towards the weekend). You're gonna have to wait to find out who it was in chapter seven though ahaha

cheerleading847: I always look forward to reading your reviews! I think Iris still definitely has reasons not to trust Jacob yet (a jerk can save your life and still be a jerk lol), but hopefully we'll see her icy hatred for him melt a little later in the story~

natsumi456: Sorry! ahahah


	14. Chapter 14

**Iris**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

Nobody would tell me what happened. For two days, they let me sit and brew, think myself to have gone mad. I knew what I saw, or at least I thought I did, but whenever I asked the conversation was swiftly turned to something else. Sam's friends avoided me. Sam avoided me. Everyone avoided me.

Then two days later came the hearing: the same group of boys who had been present in the yard when the situation took place were crammed into the living room, surrounding me as I sat on the couch. I felt like I was being interrogated.

"I pissed off Sam."

It was my response to the first question I was asked: "What happened?" The corner of Sam's lip twitched with a faint trace of amusement at my reply. It hid in the corner of his mouth, a tiny tilt of humour. Otherwise, he managed to maintain his blank face rather well, standing opposite me with his arms folded over his chest. His eyes were difficult to read. Still, Black was far better at looking detached.

Jared pressed on with his questioning. "Anything else?"

"And then…" I frowned, glancing down at my fingers. I was tempted to pick at the thread that had come loose from the couch, but forced myself to sit still.

And then what?

I could hardly confess to seeing my cousin turn into a huge wolf. Surely I'd imagined that - dreamt that part up. Things like that didn't happen in real life… right?

"And then?" Embry prodded gently.

"Wolves," I muttered. "Big wolves. Five of them."

"Where did they come from?"

"It was you," I said, meeting Embry's gaze. "And Sam. Paul, Jacob, Jared. You… _changed_."

I shook my head and returned my gaze to my hands. I fiddled nervously with my fingers, making complicated shapes as I avoided eye contact. "But that couldn't have happened," I whispered. "It's…"

"Impossible?" Seth offered.

I nodded. Yes. Very much impossible. So why was I so convinced that it was true?

Sam nodded sympathetically, before crouching down in front of me. He took my hands into his. His brown eyes were warm. It was the first time I'd seen them look so warm in so long. I thought I might cry. "Are you scared of us, Iris?" he asked quietly.

It was a stupid question. I gave him a look that told him it was a stupid question.

"Do you trust us?"

"When you're not a massive wolf trying to rip me apart, sure I do."

He snorted a laugh. "And you remember the legends, don't you? That the elders used to tell."

I nodded, yes. I had the feeling that he was trying to oversimplify everything, as if talking to a child who didn't quite understand what was happening, trying not to set the kid off and into a fit of tears. Normally, I would have been upset, but I felt like this was something I didn't really want to understand.

"Well, they're true," Sam said. "At least, the legends about us, the legends about the protectors."

I wasn't sure what the correct way to respond to that was. I was surprised I had managed to navigate up to this point, in all honesty.

"Iris?"

"Huh."

"You're not going to go into shock, are you?" Quil was only half-joking.

I shook my head. "I'm fine."

Sam didn't buy it. I didn't blame him. I could tell from the way he looked at me, the tightening of his hands around mine.

I flashed him a bright smile. It only just reached my eyes, but it was better than nothing. "Really, Sam, I'm okay," I assured. "Can I go now though? I need a shower."

It was a lame excuse, and it was obvious to everyone that I was trying to find a reason to leave. Sam looked at me uncertainly, and reluctantly released my hands before standing up and stepping back to give me room to stand. Paul floated nearby as I stood on shaky legs, but I managed on my own, and was out of the room quickly.

* * *

I wasted a lot of time before I actually got around to the whole showering thing. I spent a long time in my room, picking out the clothes I would wear when I got out. It wasn't something I needed to think about, but thinking about something mundane distracted me from the whole my-cousins-are-wolves-what-the-hell situation. Walking the short distance between my room and the bathroom was an ordeal that I somehow dragged out to a three minute process. And then I was in the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it, catching myself in the mirror. I somehow managed to waste another fifteen minutes surveying my appearance. It was no wonder Sam had looked so worried: I looked like I'd been hit by a car. My skin was dull, pale. My hair was tangled and dry-looking, a mess atop my head that I had tried to make look cute. My eyes were tired, the space around them dark from sleepless nights. I kept having nightmares about what happened at the beach.

I sighed, before turning towards the shower. I let the water warm up while I peeled off my clothes and pulled the tie from my hair. I stood in the shower for a while before I realised I was wasting water, and reached for my shampoo. I lathered mindlessly, pausing only to turn up the hot water, and watched as the shower glass fogged up. I rinsed, before moving on to scrub at my tired skin. Normally I was too lazy to bother with conditioner, but my hair was damaged and I savoured the distraction of the hot water on my back. I twisted the tap further, steam surrounding me, before I reached for my bottle of peach-scented conditioner, combing it through my wet hair. I let the hot water fall on my back once I'd rinsed all the suds from my skin and washed the conditioner out of my hair. I stood in the water for some time before I was jolted by the sudden realisation that I had spent over an hour under the water and wrenched the taps off.

I squeezed the water from my hair and patted my skin dry with my towel, stepping out of the shower and reaching for the clothes I had set out earlier. I dressed quickly, not paying much notice to the angry red skin on my legs or the foggy mirror I could no longer clearly see my reflection in. I figured I wouldn't want to: I doubted the shower had performed a miracle, and I was sure I looked just as worn out as I had before.

I sighed, reaching up to wipe the mirror down, before a wave of dizziness overcame me and I stumbled momentarily, slipping on a puddle of water and crashing to the ground spectacularly.

* * *

 **A/N: Posting two chapters to make up for not updating last week! Also because I don't really like this chapter ahaha  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**Iris**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

I heard footsteps thundering up the stairs, but ignored it in favour of gritting my teeth and moaning lowly.

"Iris?" A fist pounded on the door, and I watched as it shook in its frame. "You okay?"

"Just give me a minute," I called back, but my voice was much quieter than I had intended and my face was bunched up in pain. I held my throbbing head. "I'm okay." I knew it was a lie.

"Iris." The voice called again, "Open the door."

"I'm fine," I repeated. "Go away."

"Don't make me kick the damn thing in."

I groaned, pulling myself into a sitting position. If not for the sake of my pounding skull, I figured Emily wouldn't be very happy to find her bathroom door detached from its hinges, and attempted to reach up for the lock on the door handle.

"I mean it, Iris. You know I'll do it."

"Alright, alright," I muttered, "Where's your patience, huh? I'm opening it, so calm-"

I flicked the lock and immediately the door was thrown open, the massive Jacob Black filling the doorway. He spilled into the room in a rush, eyes wide as he surveyed the area before turning to me.

"Great," I sighed. "You."

He seemed to ignore my comment and instead squatted next to me, resting on the balls of his feet as he held me by the shoulders.

"What happened?"

I bit back a laugh. He looked so intense, so ready to hit someone. "Relax, Black, I just slipped."

Jacob's brow furrowed, but he didn't seem mad. If anything, he looked troubled, as if my slipping had taken precious time out of his life. It had, but that was besides the point. Why did he stay if all he was going to do was look like he was suffering horribly because of me?

He looked me over quickly, dark eyes scanning over my limbs and across my torso for some sign of trauma - blood, bruising, swelling. I didn't know. His hands patted down my arms, searching for some disfigurement. I was sure he would be disappointed to find that, no, I had not broken any bones. His hands moved to my legs, and I glared hotly at him at the invasion of personal space, but if he was bothered by my glowering he gave no sign of it.

He found nothing. He turned his gaze back up to my face, where I tried my best to keep the pain from passing over my features, attempting to mask it with an expression of irritation.

"You're hurt." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Stop hiding it."

Crap.

Maybe he'd smelt the pain on me. Wolf senses or something crazy like that.

"It's not so bad," I shrugged, but quickly became nervous as his eyes grew impossibly darker. "Really, it's… just a…" My voice dropped in volume as I trailed off.

His eyes were stern, black almost, as he looked at me. "Where?" he barked.

"My head." I offered the information easily, knowing that cooperation was the least painful of the options I had to choose from.

He stared at me quietly for a moment, not saying a word. His eyes dared me to speak, dared me to open my mouth. Dark. Angered. He scowled at me. And then his warm hands were resting on my shoulders again, his eyes melted ever so slightly…

He yanked me forwards, pulling me into his chest roughly. I opened my mouth to object, but his hands were already on me: one resting on my upper back between my shoulder blades and preventing me from moving, and the other resting on the side of my head as he tried to keep me still. My face heated, and I squirmed uncomfortably, but quickly gave up upon realising it was a fruitless effort. I didn't dare open my mouth: any words of protest I could manage would be clumsy and Black would hardly be inclined to listen to me anyway. He would just do as he pleased, like always.

I felt his warm breath on my skin as he peered at my head, his fingers combing gently through my damp hair as he searched for a wound. I buried my head further into his chest, trying to hide my flushed face from him. Perhaps he took it as a sign of distress or pain though, because he started hushing me softly, uncharacteristically of him. His fingers still combed through my hair, but he stopped when he found the bump. It was large, and painful-looking. I gathered that from the way he sucked in air between his teeth and held his breath for a few seconds. He prodded it gently. I hissed.

"Sorry," he murmured, prying me from his chest.

I almost went into shock at the sound of it. An apology, falling from Jacob Black's lips? It was a miracle. Maybe I had died. Maybe this was a dream and I was actually unconscious on the bathroom floor, bleeding out with an awful head wound and-

"You with me, sweetheart?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes held genuine concern as he tilted his head to the side, watching me closely.

I nodded slowly. "Just shocked."

The crevice between his brows deepened and I quickly clarified.

"You said sorry to me."

He scoffed, his voice tense. "Not the first time, I'm sure."

"I think it is," I said. "When have you ever-"

"You're not bleeding," he said, interrupting me. He looked away, glancing at the mirror that was still foggy. Then he turned back to me and looked at me apprehensively. "You're not going to be sick, are you?"

I shook my head.

"Your vision alright?"

"I can see your stupid face perfectly fine, Black."

"Would you stop playing around for five fucking minutes?" he asked throatily. It almost sounded like he was in pain. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. "Headaches? Any dizziness?"

"Obviously my head hurts." Idiot.

His hands reached for mine, squeezing them gently as he rose to his feet. "Think you can stand?"

I nodded, yes. He gently pulled me to my feet, his hands lingering as I stood.

"See? I'm fine."

He seemed satisfied that I wasn't going to teeter over and fall to my death and dropped his arms to his sides. I could still feel the ghost of his fingers on my skin though, the warmth of his hands remaining. It disturbed me more than it should have. The smile that graced his lips wasn't warm. It was mocking, unimpressed, and traces of contempt pulled at the corners. "Always are, aren't you?"

God, I hated him.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for your reviews, everyone! I always love hearing what you guys think about the story~**

Ariana Van Pelt: Bella will probably show up eventually, since she plays an important role in why Jacob treats Iris the way he does. Also, I when I created Iris, I didn't really have a set age that I decided on (terrible character development, I know). I sort of imagine her around my age, because I sort of see myself in her a little (also terrible character development ahaha). So I'd say about the same age as Jacob :)

ElizabethMidnight: Plenty more to come ;)

cheerleading847: I added the last bit about Jacob in at the last minute, so I'm glad you think I made a good choice with it. I was about to upload the chapter, and I thought there was something really missing. I try to make Iris' panic attacks seem genuine by resembling what people truly feel because I think it's important to write things how they are sometimes, and not to try to manipulate it into something it's not for the sake of the story~ So I'm really glad that you think I'm doing a good job with that!


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